


Light Up the Darkness

by oneforyourfire



Series: Suho Birthday Sextravaganza [8]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, fairy tale au kinda?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 13:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10945335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: “My knight,” Joonmyun says, and Kyungsoo’s lips quirk with a smile. “My savior,” he continues. “My lord.” (aka sudi get it in a vague fairy tale au)





	Light Up the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> warning: i don't recognize this suho but i wrote him so yeah
> 
> [i like it when you work your body, work your body, work your body, yeah~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQXbUnOu1VE)

Kyungsoo had been covered in blood, sweat, frustrated tears when Joonmyun met him, panting and breathless, exhausted, a vision in glinting, battered iron, stumbling as he stepped gingerly over the bodies strewn across the hallways, lumbered towards the tallest tower. To _Joonmyun_ , to save Joonmyun. 

His savior, his knight, his lord, his love. 

Flushed, handsome, shaking, the skin on his hands blistered, raised—dragon’s fire—his fingers, entire frame trembling as he’d peeled off his helmet, assured him that he was safe now, free, Kyungsoo had made sure of it. 

Joonmyun had been trembling then, too, ears echoing with the shrill, ringing death knell of a dragon’s scream, heart racing with the sweet, sweet taste of precarious, fragile hope, of freedom—finally, finally freedom. 

All because of Kyungsoo, his knight, his savior. Brave, bloody, breathless, bruised, blisterer, _beautiful_. 

He’s better now, bare now, the flickering candlelight, languid steam dancing along the solid breadth of his shoulders, the strong set of his waist, his thighs.

But if Joonmyun closes his eyes, he can still see the bruises, the raised skin, the blisters, the blood, the dazed, exhausted darkness of his eyes. 

If he reaches forward, he can still feel the ribbons of his scars. Count every single wound Kyungsoo had earned—for _him_. 

“My knight,” Joonmyun says, and Kyungsoo’s lips quirk with a smile. “My savior,” he continues. “My lord.”

He’d sailed an ocean, crossed a desert, a forest, defeated a dragon, scaled a tower, broken a curse—for his sake, before he’d even known him, promises even now that Joonmyun had been worth it, all of it. Had been worth saving, worth keeping.

Joonmyun would wait for him again. Love him again. Joonmyun would have sailed an ocean, crossed a desert, a forest, defeated a dragon, scaled a tower, broken a curse, would have saved him, too, kept him, too.

Joonmyun presses his palms against Kyungsoo’s bare chest, feels the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Then the skip in it when he loops his fingers around the ties of Kyungsoo’s pants, tugs. Can feel the tremble of an aborted hiss when he yanks them completely open and lets them fall by Kyungsoo’s feet. 

Nude, completely, nude. 

Bare and beautiful and brave and _breathtaking_. 

The scars are deeper, uglier on his thighs, claws, seared, ribboned skin. It had taken months for his body to piece itself back together, longer even for his mind.

He’s here now, safe now. They both are. 

And the steam makes Joonmyun’s skin prickle, makes his head hazy with desire, as it curls around them both. 

Kyungsoo is strong still brave still, soft beneath the strength, tender beneath the courage, and Joonmyun maps his skin with trembling palms like he had their very first time, reverent and wanting and terrified of it at times still—like he'd been that first time, too.

But Kyungsoo sighs as he pushes into the touch, watches him with dark, big, beautiful eyes filled with affection, with conviction, with strength, with _longing_. 

Joonmyun watches his hands as he traces the familiar skin, scarred and beautiful and strong, taut with tension, and Joonmyun’s mouth follows his fingers, leave Kyungsoo tenser yet. 

He drops slowly to his knees, and Kyungsoo watches him through his eyelashes as Kyungsoo’s teeth catch on his plush bottom lip. 

“My knight,” he says, and Kyungsoo watches him with dark, large, captivating eyes. 

“My prince,” he responds, and he cradles his face. Joonmyun shivers into the caress, kisses his palm, his wrist, shifts to kiss his thigh. 

And the stone ground is cold against his knees, but Kyungsoo’s eyes, his hands, his want, his skin are so, so warm. His moan, too. The way his throat bobs harshly with it when Joonmyun skims his tongue over the scar on his upper thigh. 

Kyungsoo he’d been warmth, tenderness after all he’d known had been coldness, hope after all he’d known had been despair, luxury after living in the austerity of captivity. Kyungsoo, he’s the only thing that Joonmyun has from that time, the only reminder, his savior. 

Recourse, reprieve, rescue from the witches curse, dragon keeper, despair, cold aching void of loneliness, Kyungsoo—bloody, breathless, beautiful—his savior, after so long, seeing so many fail. 

Affection rushes through him, heavy and utterly staggering, and his lips part. 

Kyungsoo’s hands curl to fists around his sides, tight, tight, and Joonmyun has to guide them to his head, moaning appreciatively when they tug. He drags his mouth more deliberately now, enjoying the kiss of goosebumps against his parted lips, the fine, fine tremor he can feel vibrating through Kyungsoo’s legs. 

Joonmyun suckles at the head of his cock, enjoys the strength there, too, before Kyungsoo is urging him away, pressing him back against the cold, stone tile. 

He crawls over him, caging him in. Joonmyun melts back, bares his throat, his body. Kyungsoo is all strong, harsh lines still, breathtaking still, and Joonmyun can see it again, the same dark, bloody determination and bravery and beauty in the way he presses him back against the ground. It terrifies him still, the utter gravity of his feelings, but he can’t help but moan, toss his head back—want, want, want. 

The flickering candles cast him harsh and sharp and perfect, and Joonmyun cradles his face, brushes his bangs back, wants him, wants him, wants him. 

Looming and dark and achingly handsome, brave, brave, brave, the kind of knight that Joonmyun had allowed himself to dream of, locked away in that tower for all of those years, only better, realer, safer, warmer, with more heart and tenderness and _love_. 

He’s hard as he presses against him, and Joonmyun moans, spread his legs as much as possible. 

Kyungsoo hisses against his throat, fingers dragging careful up his thighs—tortuously slow, tortuously gentle.

A delicate thing, he’d rescued. Or a precious thing he wants to treasure. 

“Touch me,” he says, turning, hands and knees, arched spine. Make it hard, he means.

This isn't their first time, and definitely not their first time here, and Kyungsoo understands, fumbling back for oil, dropping a kiss to Joonmyun’s shoulder blades as he slides behind him again, slides his fingers inside. 

Joonmyun’s own fingers clench around the smooth stone ground, palms catching, fingers spasming, and he groans, shudders. Kyungsoo presses closer, drags, and a shiver crawls up his spine, a litany of shaky, shaky moans spill from his lips. 

The stones scrape his knees, his back when Kyungsoo urges him over, and Joonmyun tugs him into a kiss immediately, clutching and shuddering and panting into his mouth through the slick, hot, devastatingly deep friction 

“My knight,” he says, and Kyungsoo moans, kisses him back, crooks his fingers, thrusts faster, touches him even more more more perfect.

Joonmyun breaks away from his mouth to kiss, pant, moan against his throat instead. He gropes down for his hand, curling his fingers around Kyungsoo’s wrist, feeling the muscles shifting as Kyungsoo continues to fuck him. 

His fingers crook, dark eyes devastate, and Joonmyun’s eyelids flutter shut, drowning in the sensations, shuddering for more, more, more. 

Joonmyun turns over again, at Kyungsoo’s prompting. 

He twists can arm back to feel the taut, taut tension of his thigh, his other hand scrambling over the ground to hold himself upright. 

Joonmyun can’t kiss him like this, but he can feel every single, solid, hard, strong, strong inch of him, can shudder through the sensation as Kyungsoo’s lips latch on his neck, fingers crawl up his sides. 

His fingers clench, fingernails, bite, excruciatingly soft, warm, plush, plush lips part with the lowest rumble of a moan as Kyungsoo eases eases eases his way inside.

Joonmyun clenches, groans, and Kyungsoo’s head tips forward with a richer moan, his hair whispering over Joonmyun’s spine. He retreats, pushes in again—deeper. 

His hand close around Joonmyun’s hips, and oh, Joonmyun loves the slick, steady push and treat, slow enough to be dragging, thorough for him to feel every aching centimeter, lose himself in the pleasure. 

Joonmyun shudders, trembles, again, more heavily, so heavy that his knees threaten to give out. Kyungsoo’s fingers sift through his hair, tug and oh oh oh. 

You killed for me, he thinks. Nearly died for me. Saved me. Wanted me. Want me. Love me, love me, love me.

“My knight,” he pants. “My Kyungsoo.” 

And Kyungsoo’s breath hitches, thrusts sharpen. 

Kyungsoo’s hand stumbles down, touch hot, fast, as his thrusts falter, stutter, become sloppier, faster with need. His kisses become sloppier, too, clumsy, punctuated with small, sharp little scrapes of his teeth. 

Close, he’s close. 

“Prince,” he gasps, and Kyungsoo inhales sharply, rumbles out a stuttering groan, bites down on his shoulder, _comes_ with the heaviest, most perfect, perfect tremor. 

His savior. His savior. His savior.

Kyungsoo’s cock starts to soften, but he stays inside of him, kisses his throat, pinches his nipples, continues to stroke, stroke, stroke. 

Joonmyun barely barely barely manages to stay upright, gasping as he spills across the stones. 

It takes him long, long long to come down, melting against Kyungsoo’s strong, strong, steadying arms against his waist, soothed by racing heartbeat, his orgasm-heavy labored breathing. 

“Bath,” he murmurs, and they laugh—breathless and shaky—as they stumble towards the tub. The water splashes around the edges, and Kyungsoo’s laughter is pressed to his temple now, his arm steadying as Joonmyun melts into the warmth. The water soothes his aches, laps against his sides, caresses his skin, and he’s lulled into a sated stupor against Kyungsoo’s solid, strong, strong side.

**Author's Note:**

> 8/11
> 
> "brave"


End file.
